Mutual Healing
by shy-x-fox
Summary: He was just trying to comfort his friend. She got an incredible idea.
1. Chapter 1

She was at it again.

Her face was downcast, but her warm brown eyes cut a beeline to the back of his orange tufts that spiked out in every possible direction. She sat at the back of the class, while he sat closer to the front, somewhat nervously twiddling her thumbs or playing with her hair–whatever. She was almost always looking at him, regardless. She adored him, and Ishida knew that. That's not what irked him. It was that Ichigo never looked back. She could bat those thick eyelashes and flash her contagious smile all she wanted. Ichigo didn't turn around to look at her, not once. Sure, they were friends. The relationship just about stopped there. That's why Ishida was annoyed–Ichigo was an idiot. How could he not notice her, when she's just so–well–_noticeable_?

Orihime was always kind, always softening even the hardest of hearts. She was smart; top of her class. She almost snapped necks as she walked down the halls, with her red hair tumbling to her waist, the daydreaming expression she had in her eys, among many other physical assets that made her much made her Karakura High's idol. It baffled Ishida. He assumed that Ichigo was just an power-hungry idiot, and that _when _(not "if") Ichigo noticed her, he would never be able to see anything else. Watching Orihime wait around made him cringe, though.

You could see it in the way she looked at him that she had it bad. Her cheeks would flush a baby pink and she'd bite her lower lip while watching him pass by, and the pained expression she wore when he was close to Rukia could make anyone wince. There had always been speculation around campus that Ichigo and Rukia were an item, although the two denied it adamantly when confronted on the matter. The rumors didn't stop them from staying by each other's side, though, and it certainly didn't stop Orihime from clutching the end of her skirt and turning away to hide glossy eyes when Ichigo passed by with the tiny death god next to him.

A loud _riiiiing _erupted in the classroom. In a flurry, a horde of students gathered their belongings and hurried for the door. Ishida, glancing at his fellow classmates trying to squeeze out of the doorway, fixed his glasses before neatly packing his notebooks. He didn't understand the rush everyone took to get out and do practically nothing. Amongst the parade of obnoxious teenagers was Ichigo, the head of orange hair serving as an identifier. Ishida turned his vision to Orihime. Just as he thought. Her eyes were rapidly shifting, pushing the red bangs out of her eyes to see none other than Kurosaki. Of course. No, something was different this time. She was searching for him, on her tiptoes, as if she were desperately trying to keep track of him. The Kurosaki was out of sight at that point, though–whatever Orihime was going to do, she was going to have to hurry.

It didn't concern Ishida in any way, however, so he threw the satchel over his shoulder and stepped towards the door.

"Oi, Orihime. What're you doing today after school?" a voice came from behind him. Ishida briefly turned. It was Tatsuki, addressing Orihime. Again, another matter that didn't concern him.

"Ehehe, ah, I'm going to, I have to go, so..." Orihime stuttered nervously, her face growing that familiar shade of pink.

"Had a feeling." Tatsuki said sardonically, patting her best friend on the back before turning away.

"Eh–"

"Go get 'im, Orihime." Tatsuki made a fist. "I've got softball practice. See ya." Tatsuki smirked and left, brushing past Ishida. Orihime chuckled nervously. At this point, all the other students had cleared the room.

"Bye, Inoue." Ishida said flatly, one hand on the doorway, one gripping his satchel's strap, which hung loosely around his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder at Orihime, who was fumbling hurriedly through her bag, causing the sound of crinkling cellophane.

"Oh, Ishida, I didn't notice you there! Um, bye! See you tomor"– Orihime didn't get to finish. She was interrupted by a soft thud and more crinkling. Ishida twisted around. Orihime collapsed into a crouch and tried to get a few plastic-wrapped, purple-ribbon adorned baguettes out of sight as quickly as possible. Without a moment's hesitation, Ishida found himself stooped over some scattered bread. "Aha, I'm such a stupid klutz sometimes, sorry, Ishida." Orihime said with a half-hearted giggle and that fake smile that made an appearance more and more often as of late. Ishida stared down at the last baguette as he handed it to Orihime.

"You're not stupid." He muttered. He cleared his throat before he continued. "But you'd better hurry." He said, motioning with a jerk of his head towards the door.

Orihime froze and locked eyes with Ishida with a look that could have been either something as simple a surprise or something as dramatic as horror–with her eyes almost plate-like and her lips parted, it was hard to tell. In a second, she had tightened her jaw and knit her eyebrows together; a face that would have looked a little scary had it not been for the blush across the bridge of her nose. Orihime clutched her satchel to her chest and lifted herself up with the edge of a desk, and gave Ishida a stiff nod.

"Yeah." She grunted, turning towards the doorway.

Ishida wasn't even expecting her to pick up on such a subtle hint that he knew about her transparent feelings for Ichigo, but it was evident that she must have.

Orihime froze once again, this time in mid-stride to the door. Ishida, still sitting cross-legged on the carpet, looked up.

"Thank you, Ishida." Her soft voice emerged from behind a curtain of red hair.

Ishida smiled. So he hadn't rocked the boat too much.

"Yeah, anytime."

By the time he had finished his sentenced, Orihime was out the door. Ishida listened to the skid of her loafers against the tile of the hallways. The school was empty now; it was unlikely she would catch him unless she ran.

Ishida huffed. This was really another issue that was none of his business, but he couldn't help but hope and worry, just a little bit. Orihime was a dear friend of his, and she had loved Ichigo for years now. How could he not hold out hope for her as she ran to give him her special bread?

Regardless, Ishida needed to get home at some point, so he patted his pant legs as he rose, roped his satchel around his shoulder, and pushed up his glasses before beginning the leisurely walk to his apartment.

As he made his way down the hallway, he was was a little surprised at the lack of students. There was a lone student every once in a while that was given cleaning duty, or one sulkily heading off to detention. Everyone else had cleared the building, even Orihime. Evening sunlight seeped through the building's orifices, covering everything in a hazy orange glow. Ishida picked up his pace a bit at the sight of the exit, extending his arm to push the glass door open. It was only as he was descending down the school's steps did he hear a muffled whimper from his left.

Ishida skidded to a stop, confused at the sound. Nothing was down the pathway, no one was in the courtyard, and it certainly wasn't the sound of a small animal. He searched everywhere for the source, before he heard a quiet sniffle. This time, out of the corner, he caught a glimmer of auburn hair. Ishida swung his body to the left and looked over the edge of the concrete stair case.

Sure enough, there was the unmistakable top of the head of Orihime, buried into her knees. The sniffling continued, and she hugged her knees tighter to her chest. Ishida stared blankly for a moment; already aware of what had to have happened.

"Inoue?" Ishida interjected. The sniffling halted, and Orihime's head flew up as she drew in a sharp breath to stare at a dumbfounded Ishida, stray hairs sticking to her tear-stained face. Orihime got that look of horror-surprise again and stood up promptly, her bag clutched tightly as if it were a child's stuffed bear.

"Ishida." Her voice wavered. She didn't look at him; she was busy using her fist to wipe away tears and snot. She shakily wiped the back of her hand against her skirt before turning to him. She lifted her eyes to meet Ishida's steely blue ones. Her chin quivered just a bit before she feigned a smile.

"What..What are you doing here, Ishida? You surprised me!" She took her sleeve to her face, wiping away the tears still pooling in her eyes, before wrapping both arms around her bag held in front of her stomach.

Ishida didn't know how to respond to her obviously fake attitude, especially given that he knew exactly what happened. He touched the bridge of his nose tentatively before answering.

"You're going to squish your bread." He mumbled as he drew his hand away from his face. He sounded stiff; it was not because he was cold, but because the situation was so damn awkward for him.

"Huh?" Orihime said, clumsily attempting to put the bag behind her. Solemnly, she looked at the satchel.

"Oh, right. The bread," Orihime said, the hint of sadness in her voice presenting itself. "It's ruined. I mean, it's like a day old, anyways..." Any effort Orihime made to conceal her real feelings vanished in that second: her face fell to look at the bag cradled in her arms before she sprung up again. "So, it doesn't matter!" She said in a forcedly cheerful way, giving her classic smile; head tilt included.

Ishida, of course, wasn't convinced. He looked at the bag, which had Orihime's fingernails digging into it. He let out a small sigh, which let Orihime know that he was definitely not fooled. Her eyebrows raised and her worry was clear.

"Let me see." He said quietly, gingerly pulling the satchel towards him with his index finger. Orihime, at first, didn't take her hands off the bag, but it only took a matter of seconds for her to give in. At first, she didn't know what to do with her hands, so they flailed a bit before relaxing into a crossed-arms position, one hand covering her mouth. She looked away as Ishida pried open the flap to see the baguettes, with kinks in their side and ribbons askew. Some were even broken in half. Ishida couldn't help but smile. The bread was malformed, but totally edible.

"They look pretty good to me." Ishida noted, picking up on of the less-squished baguettes and examining it between his fingertips.

Orihime's eyes grew wide and her embarrassment turned to a genuine smile. "Ah, really? Thank you, Ishida! I made them yesterday, and I thought they looked too good to sell to a bunch of random strangers, so I put some away so that he–I mean, my friends–could enjoy them. So, er, you should have one, Ishida!" She said quickly towards the end, her cheeks warming at the accidental mention of a specific person.

Ishida smirked knowingly and unwrapped the bread before taking a bite, chewing slowly, and swallowing before looking at her anxious face, obviously awaiting an opinion.

"This is really good, Inoue." He says. In all honesty, they actually were, but he takes another bite as if to prove it before handing her bag back to her.

"Ah, really? I mean, I know, I couldn't help but eat one or two, but yeah! I though they looked pretty good, anyways..." She tapered off, still smiling.

Ishida felt a rather warm feeling swelling in his gut as he stared at his friend; one minute ago crying, now rambling on about her baked goods. Without mulling over what he had to say, he said

"It's too bad he didn't get to enjoy one." Ishida gave a single squeeze to the bitten loaf of bread he had in his hand, once he realized the intensity of his words. Great. Now he'd ruined everything.

The air felt heavy, and Orihime just looked straight at him, her mouth hung a little open. Her face was flushed. She certainly didn't look happy. Ishida couldn't look at the face that knew it had been found out. It's Orihime that broke the ice.

"I, uh, well I...should g–" Ishida, realizing that what he has said has been received, spits out the next part.

"You really feel strongly for him, don't you?" The words felt like cement in his throat for some reason. He regretted it before he said it, but he couldn't let her go home just like that.

Orihime had already turned away when he said it. She turned around, her eyes glossy and face tomato red. This time, she's not hiding her emotions at all. With jittery fingers, the attaches the flap to her bag back down. She knows it's pointless to hide anything now.

"Yeah...I'm sorry, Ishida...I–" She took a second to use her sleeve to stop a single tear from dripping down her chin–"Just can't help myself". She breathed.

Ishida frowned as he was hit with a pang of guilt, mixed with something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"No, don't apologize, Inoue. I think I can understand how you feel." Ishida said softly, an attempt to comfort her. He was now able to look her in the eyes. Orihime offered a feeble smile before one more final swipe under her eyes. Then–something in her completely changed.

She stared up at Ishida, eyes wide and mouth in a near perfect "o" shape. It was as if a light bulb literally popped over her head. Whatever she was thinking, it was beginning to make Ishida a little uncomfortable.

Orihime slapped her palm to her cheek.

"Oh...my gosh..That's _right_!" Her eyes drifted to the side as if recalling exactly what was "right" before she locked eyes with Ishida, a serious look on her face. She extending her arm, and before he knew it, her index finger was looking Ishida straight in the face.

"You–" Ishida cringed at what might come out of her mouth next. "like Kuchiki!" Ishida almost dropped the squished, bitten, pathetic piece of bread in his sweaty palms. This was worse than he though. _Much _worse.

"Wha–I don–" He stammered. It didn't matter what he had to say. He was cut off.

"I can't believe it didn't hit me earlier! I'm so sorry, Ishida, I was being selfish, I should've noticed this is hurting you as much as it is hurting me, but hey! I am here to help you now! I, Inoue Orihime, AKA Love Guru, will make Kuchiki fall for you. It shouldn't be too hard!" She patted her chest indignantly. Ishida rubbed his temples. This...was bad. He was just trying to comfort her.

"Inoue, I dunno..." Ishida muttered, his fingers still cupping his forehead. He couldn't finish his sentence. For whatever reason, he couldn't choke out that Rukia was not the girl he was fond of.

"Ah ah! C'mon, we're friends, right? Let me set you up! Please?" Ishida shook his hand from his face and peered down at Orihime. She was pouting, dried tears still residing on her pink cheeks, long eyelashes batting. Well, her mind was definitely off Kurosaki–it was all in her face. She was pleading and using the doe-eyes to her advantage.

"Yeah." Ishida deadpanned. "We're friends." He adjusted his glasses before letting his arm drop limply to his side in defeat. This had been too much embarrassment for one day. Daylight was now beginning to run out.

"Listen, Inoue. I'll see you tomorrow. I have to head home. Thanks–" Saying "thank you for the bread" would be too weak. "for everything."

Orihime smiled, an accomplished look on her face. She smoothed her skirt before continuing.

"Yeah! Let's collaborate on getting you a date sometime soon, kay?"

This time, Ishida's face was the one that warmed. He looked away and began stepping back. He really didn't need any more embarrassment. Regret and guilt also welt up in him, but tailing them was a surprisingly tender feeling, similar to the one he'd felt earlier, and it followed him all the way to his apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

Ishida yawned as he trudged up the school's steps. The hordes of people today were so energetic today; many shoving their way past him as he made his way to class. He peeked at his watch; it was early yet. Good. No need to hurry in his grogginess. However, it wasn't long before Orihime was seeking Ishida out like a missile.

"Ishidaaaa!" She cried, floppily waving her arm in the air. That voice was enough to wake Ishida up, and he halted suddenly in the crowd, kids continuing to shove past him, grunts coming from all sides. He tossed his head, searching for her. Her voice came from his far left.

"Watch it!" He heard a girl warn as she was bumped into. Somehow, he expected Orihime to be the cause of the girl's annoyance. Orihime ignored the girl, her loafers slapping the tile as she made her way closer to Ishida. Ishida, still standing in the middle of the hall, prepared himself. This was going to be a rough morning.

Orihime halted inches in front of him. Instinctively, a feeling of unease settles at the bottom of his stomach as he took a single step back.

"Good morning, Inoue." Ishida says, stifling a yawn. He was sleep deprived.

"Don't you 'good morning' me with so little energy! We need to get our game plan together, remember?"

"Game plan?"

Orihime briefly crammed a palm to her forehead.

"Don't tell me you weren't up all night thinking about this!" She said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Ishida couldn't say he hadn't, but probably not for the same reason she was thinking. He stood, speechless. Orihime fanned the air.

"No matter, no matter. I've got the perfect idea already." Ishida lifted an eyebrow, a sick feeling pitting in his gut. This couldn't be good.

"We need to talk...but not now, we've got class in a few seconds. Meet me on the roof at lunch!" She said excitedly in a hushed tone. Ishida nodded as inconspicuously as possible. Orihime bit her lip and giggled as she ran off.

"Later, Ishida!" She shouted. So much for being inconspicuous. Ishida stayed put as he watched her hurry off to class. It's not long before "Ah man, _him_?" and "What did he do that was so special?" comes from disgruntled males around him. Ishida pushed up his glasses and tried to quietly slip into class.

During class, Orihime obviously couldn't contain her excitement. Although she kept her distance from him, she maintained a look of serious determination throughout towards Ishida; sometimes with an occasional wink and thumbs up. "_Don't, Inoue, people will get the wrong idea.._" Ishida thought with a clenched jaw, evading her stares. It seemed lunch couldn't come soon enough when they were dismissed.

Ishida grabbed his sack lunch and made his way to the roof. There was no denying it: Ishida was nervous. He tread gently on the steps as he tip-toed up to the roof. He said he would do it, didn't he? He certainly couldn't bail on Orihime now that she was so worked up about whatever she was scheming. He would just have to bite his tongue and listen to what she had to say. He opened the small doorway leading him up to the popular lunch site. He cupped his hands over his forehead as the harsh afternoon sunlight bore down on him. It's not long before he catches sight of Ichigo and Rukia arguing through mouthfuls of food, with what seems like an uninvited Keigo propped up on his palms, laughing at their antics. He kept scanning the rooftop for the auburn-haired girl who had been so excited to lay out her plot to him.

"Ishida!" Ishida turned to see a long, thin arm extended from the far corner. He can't help but smile. When the girl said she was going to do something, she meant it. It appeared she had been waiting for him, hurriedly getting up from her kneeling position, leaving her lunch unguarded. Keigo's head snaps around to watch Orihime run up to Ishida, and Ichigo and Rukia seem to stop arguing mid-sentence to blankly stare on as Orihime nearly trips over herself before halting in front of him before intentionally grasping his sleeve.

"C'mon!" She whispered, tugging him to her little corner.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Inoue." Ishida mumbled, unheard. Orihime lets go of him and collapsed back to her kneel before almost ripping open her lunch bag. She pulled out a plastic baggy.

"Want a cucumber sandwich?" She offered, her cheek already stuffed with the food. Ishida, rightfully suspicious of anything Orihime eats, remained silent as she takes another large bite.

"They're really normal, I promise. People in England eat them all the time for teatime, I think?" She held out her arm, the sandwich in her palms just about dangling in front of his face. Convincing enough.

"Um, sure." Ishida accepted, taking the tiny square of a sandwich between his fingers before sitting cross-legged in front of her. He set the little sandwich on his knee. Orihime swallowed down the last of her second sandwich and pointed her index finger towards the sky.

"Okay, so now for the plan." She said. Ishida took an apprehensive bite of his little offering. _Not bad_, he silently noted.

"So," she claps her palms together, something like a mischievous grin on her mouth. This was a different girl from the sniffling, teary one Ishida had witnessed yesterday. Her dainty hands began rubbing together, making her seem awfully scheming. Ishida shifted position a bit.

"I know for a _fact _that Kuchiki has cleaning duty today, but no one else is signed up to do it with her yet. Do you know what that means, Ishida?" Ishida disregards how she knows these "facts", but is filled with that uneasiness again when faced with her expectant stare. He looked into his lap.

"Er," he swallowed. "That means that someone else is going to have to do it with her." He answered dully.

"Don't you be coy with me!" Orihime remarked with a false hostility, leaning forward to Ishida. He could see the crumbs on the corners of her mouth, and instinctively, he backed away. She settled back before using her sleeve as a napkin. She delved through her bag for a juicebox. Ishida felt warmth creeping from the back of his spine, to his chest as he watched her matter-of-factly stab the juicebox with a straw before inhaling a sip. He didn't say anything in response. Orihime was not going to let his silence slide.

"It means that someone has to volunteer with her! It's too perfect!" She nearly yelled.

"Shh, Inoue, not so loud!" Ishida says, searching his surroundings to ensure no heads were turned. They weren't. He guessed Karakura High was used to their school idol's loud nature. Orihime sucked the juicebox dry before her brown eyes flickered up towards Ishida, seemingly genuine annoyance in them. He scratched behind his ear, unsure of what to say.

"That means you are going to have to volunteer, Ishida." She says, as if actually having to explain the situation. Ishida could hear the tint of annoyance in her voice. Although this worried him, still, no words came. Her brows slanted downward as she looked up at him with those doe-eyes that always caught him. He could at least muster up an "okay". That's what he would do–but before he could even begin, Orihime cut in.

"You have to do what I can't, Ishida. You've got to be brave." The seriousness in her face did not waver. _Shit, _he thought. He could feel her getting sad again.

"Inoue–"

"You have to stick your arm straight in the air and say 'I volunteer! I want to volunteer with Kuchiki!' loud and clear." Her face had softened, and she was no longer looking towards Ishida. He noticed that she had almost stuck her own arm in the air as she said it, but forced her arms in a crossed arms position under her chest as a mild, although noticeable, blush graced the apples of her cheeks. Clearly, she had fantasized about this herself in the past. Mindlessly, Ishida nodded in agreement. Orihime noticed, her face already brighter.

"Okay. No chickening out. Got it?"

"Got it." Ishida said smiling faintly, not needing to think about his answer, not this time. Orihime returned his smile, hers full of warmth and encouragement. It reinforced his decision to go along with this, filling his gut with that flittering warmth that for some reason made him uncomfortable.

"Good. Now, have a cookie. They're leftovers, they're delicious, but I made way too many and I can't eat all of 'em." She flung a cookie at him like a frisbee, and it hit Ishida in the lower gut and plops in his lap before he picked it up and stood.

"Thanks again, Inoue, now let's get back to class."

"But I'm not done! I've still got my teriyaki salmon that I made!" Typical Orihime. She couldn't have one normal meal.

"I'll see you later, then." He gave a slight wave. Orihime stopped sifting through the apparently endless brown paper bag, and gave Ishida a final stern look.

"Don't forget what I told you. That's important stuff."

"I won't." At this, she beams.

"Later, Ishida!" Ishida smiled, turned, and left her rummaging through her bag.

Class was boring, as usual, and the teacher did not care enough to stop Ishida from reading his own book–as usual. It was nearing the end of the day. Students were bored; either doodling or inspecting their fingernails while the teacher droned on. It was a miracle that every student always noticed the magic words–

"Class, it looks like it's the end of the day, so–" The teacher did not get to finish. He was accustomed to this and had just given up. Students had already carelessly cleared their desks. Ishida caught sight of Orihime, who gave him an anxious nod and a thumbs up. He gave her a small half-smile before neatly putting his binder and book away. He adjusted his glasses when the teacher cleared his throat.

"Rukia Kuchiki is scheduled for cleaning duty, but she needs a hand. Any volunteers?"

Damn it. Orihime had her facts straight, and it meant that he was stuck here, frozen, and feeling Orihime dead-eyeing him. He can't look at her, and he certainly can't force himself to raise his hand. He feels a sheen of sweat cover his forehead as he focuses on nothing other than his desk. Ahead of him, a chair backed out, screeching against the tile flooring. From the corner of his eye, Ishida could see that it was Ichigo.

"Uh, I guess–"

"ISHIDA VOLUNTEERS!" Ishida turned around. Orihime stood quickly, almost knocking over her chair. She was breathing heavily, pointing at Ishida, but her eyes were elsewhere: they were wide with horror at Ichigo's bewildered stare. Ichigo looked pretty stupid himself, his eyes wide, his mouth slack jawed, but it didn't stop Orihime from gradually turning beet red all over as her arm weakly fell to her side. It never did.

"Ishida has to want to volunteer, Inoue, that's the whole point," the teacher began slowly, uninterested in the motives of his students. "Now, Kurosaki, it looks like–"

"I volunteer." The words leave Ishida's mouth before he realizes it, seeing Orihime's dismayed expression before switching to look at Ichigo. True to his nature, Ichigo's being dumbfounded was clear as he made eye contact with Ishida. Ichigo says nothing.

"Take a break, Kurosaki. You look like crap." Ishida manages to say with a smirk. The ginger's eyebrows quickly knit together, and the look of bewilderment quickly twists into one of annoyance.

"Oi, four-eyes, you're one to talk!" He sputters. Mild giggling came from all sides of the classroom. The teacher interrupts with a loud sigh.

"Quiet, boys. Ishida gets cleaning duty. You are dismissed." In a flurry, the students hustled out of the room. Ishida made an effort to see Orihime's face; her expression; if she approved. Through passing students, he saw her, but her face wasn't exactly a happy one. Once she saw Ishida, she shared a small smile with him, but was obviously still pretty flustered after her face-off with Ichigo.

_She did that for me_, Ishida recognized. He smiled to himself, after she had exited the classroom. She was such a good friend. Ishida remains in his seat as the room empties. He looked over his shoulder. Rukia had decided to the same, her stick-like arms folded into her chest.

Once he knew he was alone with Rukia, he stood and made hesitant steps in her direction. Her face wasn't necessarily confused, but was definitely asking questions, her eyebrows raised. She seemed more amused than anything.

"Hello." It's the best Ishida can do. He can't explain anything, so he ended up looking awkward as possible. Rukia's expression didn't change, but she crossed her arms.

"...Hi." There was nothing more to really say, which is when it hits him that Ishida does not know this girl that well at all. In fact, the only person that really did in this world was Ichigo. This situation must be awkward for her, too.

"Kurosaki seemed sick the other day. Just thought he should take the day off." Pathetic excuse, he knew it, and he knew Rukia wouldn't buy it for a second. She let it slide, though, and picked up a broom.

"Ah. The idiot probably isn't getting enough rest. I worry about him, sometimes." Her face softened just a bit, a reminiscent smile on her lips. Ishida picked up a chair to stack while she swept on the other side of the classroom.

"Well," He said, hoisting the chair up. "He can't seem to focus without his work." Rukia chuckled.

"That's Ichigo for you. He's too easy to mess with, in that regard. He takes himself too seriously." Her sweeping slowed. "Always protecting something." she said, her words barely audible.

Ishida nodded in her direction before aligning the desks just right in their rows. Rukia drew in a breath. She needed to fill the silence.

"Heh, you should've seen Ichigo in those months I was gone. It was so pitiful, he didn't even sleep." She rambled, her voice trailing off at the end. She clutched the broom tighter as her sweeping came to a stop.

Silence. Ishida turns to see the girl's face. The setting sun focused shone on her face, and from across the room, Ishida couldn't tell if she was blushing or not, even though he was squinting.

"What's that face for?" Rukia cleared her throat and turned away from Ishida, picking up the pace of her sweeping. She had said too much.

Ishida smiled and looked out the window. Orihime was probably already home, eating some weird dinner or something. He broke the silence.

"You and Kurosaki are quite the duo." He said, sitting down in a perfectly-aligned desk. That didn't make the awkwardness better. Instead, it made it worse. He looked at Rukia to respond, but instead, all he saw was the back of her jagged black bob.

The _swiff, swiff, swiff _of Rukia's broom stopped.

"Yeah, we are, aren't we?" Rukia peered over her shoulder at him, now with a smitten half-smile. She tore the spotted bandana off her head and patted down her hair. She tossed it carelessly on a desk.

"Well, I'm done here, and it looks like you are, too." She said, ending with a sigh. With that, she set the push-broom against the wall and placed a tiny hand on her hip.

"Later, Ishida." She says, waltzing out of the room. Ishida actually _wasn't_ done; desks still had flecks of dust and chairs were not fully pushed in. Not only that, he'd be lying if he said Rukia did a satisfactory job on her sweeping, which he came to realize was the only thing she actually did. There were still stray pieces of paper under desks, for crying out loud. He was meticulously wiping down desks. Who knew a hard ass like Rukia could be so lazy?

"Bye." He muttered. A feeling washed over him: guilt. But why? And from where? He didn't get it; neither he nor Rukia said anything wrong in their cleaning session, but he could already picture a sad Orihime. It was obvious Rukia cared for Ichigo–everyone saw that. But not everyone had seem Rukia get–what was that, embarrassment?–whatever it was, it was not the Rukia that everyone saw. It was much softer; more girlish, and it was centered around their discussion of Ichigo. Of course it would make Orihime sad.

He sighed. Rukia left him with a lot of work to do in more ways than one.

Ishida arrived at his apartment door–finally. Cleaning duty always took him forever, especially when lazy death gods accompanied him, and at this point, it was dark out. He shuffled for his keys in his pocket and entered the one-bedroom. He went straight for the pantry to get out a styrofoam cup of ramen. As they microwaved, Ishida turned on his phone; something he left off during school hours to make its obnoxious ringtone didn't interrupt.

Four missed calls from Orihime. Ishida rubbed his eyes. He'd call her back when he had time to decompress. He had to think about what to say to her, after all.

_Ding._ His gourmet meal was ready. Carefully, he carried it to his couch–or actually, a loveseat, but to him it was a couch. He couldn't afford anything bigger, and father certainly did not want to pay for something "so unnecessary". He was lucky to have a loveseat. He set his phone on the small table next to the couch. He didn't even get to swallow his first bite of steaming noodles before his phone rings and vibrates on the table's surface.

Ishida puts the cup noodles between his legs, and grabs the sleek flip phone. Caller ID says it's Orihime.

_Damn it. _He couldn't just ignore her now. His conscious wouldn't allow for it. He picked up.

"Hello?"

"Ishida! It's me, Orihime!" She sounded urgent. Ishida smiles.

"I know, Inoue."

"Oh. Well, how did it go?"

"How did what go?" He asked, knowing he was just beating around the bush. He still didn't know how to explain what he wanted to say.

"Clean up on isle Kuchiki, of course." She says excitedly, unable to hide her laughter at the end. Ishida wondered how long she had been sitting on that one.

"Oh. That." He said flatly. A pause. "It was fine."

"C'monnnnnn, Ishida, you can tell me!" She whined. Ishida swallowed. The noodle's steam was wearing off.

"Like I said, it was fine. We talked a little."

"Only a little? What did you say?" Another pause. What did he say? What could he tell her? It dawned on him that most of he and Rukia's conversation concerned Ichigo, and what was said could trigger Orihime's tears–something he ultimately wanted to avoid.

"Uh, I said hi, and why I volunteered to clean with her instead of Ichigo." Ishida hoped that would be enough to satisfy Orihime, but something in his guy told him it wouldn't.

"Ooh, what did you say? Omigod, don't tell me you confessed! It's too soon, Ishida!"

"Er, no, I didn't confess anything. I just said that I knew Kurosaki wasn't feeling well, so as his friend, I wanted to take over." He could almost feel Orihime's disappointment over the phone, but instead, he picked up a breathy sigh from the receiving end.

"Kuchiki wouldn't believe that. She knows him better than anyone else." Oh, no. He could feel the waterworks getting ready to start up.

"I-" What could he say? It wasn't necessarily untrue. He panicked as he racked his brain for something that would keep Orihime from feeling down. "She seemed to believe me." He responded softly.

"Ehehe, you got lucky, Ishida." She gasped. "Maybe it's a sign! Maybe she pretended to believe you because she didn't want to embarrass you or undermine your feelings! Maybe she already knows, and maybe she has secret feelings for you! Maybe–"

"That's enough, Inoue. I don't think so, I think she just wanted to get her work done and get out." Normally, Orihime getting so worked up was entertaining, but not in matters like...these.

"I'm just saying. I don't want you to be sad, and that you should try looking on the bright side of things. Or else you'll never get by." There was a certain kind of sadness in her voice. Guilt, again. The urge to say something crept up his throat.

"You're right, Inoue. Kuchiki isn't too tough, anyways." That was the truth. The Rukia he say today was definitely not the tough personality he was used to. Orihime giggled before another pause–a much less awkward one–took over.

"Yeah, well, I've gotta get ready for work tomorrow. Keep me updated, and don't give up, Ishida!"

"I'm not going to give up on anything." Truth, once again.


End file.
